As I opened the door,
to a place I call home,
I was greeted;
by my father, standing;
by the shoe rack,
busy on his phone.
he looked at me,
and the lips stretched and bent,
zipping through his wrinkled face,
his endearing smile clasped me;
in a tight embrace.
The squiggled lines;
of thought,
that ravaged my mind,
unwound;
to a single straight file.
And as I closed the door,
I left my struggles there,
to face them;
when I open this door,
again.